


Two Roads Diverged

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aimee and Louis are fierce best friends, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Angst, Bad Jokes, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Cheating, Cheating Zayn, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Gryles, Hair-pulling, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, One Direcshaw Fic Exchange, Perrie's a bit of a bitch, Scott's kind of twatty, Sliding Doors AU, Stymshaw - Freeform, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is stuck in a job he hates and supporting his writer boyfriend who spends more time at the library doing "research" than he does at home.  One fateful day he bumps his head at work and decides to go home early. If he misses the train, he won't catch his boyfriend cheating on him, he'll end up staying in a dead end relationship, and he'll never quit his soul-sucking day job. But what happens if he catches it?</p><p>A Sliding Doors Au that shows both possible paths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Roads Diverged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiddleyoumust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/gifts).



> Dear fiddleyoumust,
> 
> I fell in love with all three of the prompts you sent. I would have done them all if I had time. I hope this ends up somewhere in the vicinity of what you were hoping for. This was the most fun I've had writing in a long time. Thank you for being an awesome prompt giver.
> 
> A/N: This story has one starting point but then splits to go down two separate paths. It’s essentially two stories in one.  
> This: ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ indicates it’s the new path.  
> This: -@- indicates a return to the original path.  
> I’m aware this is a bit complicated but I was informed that large amounts of italics makes for difficult reading for some.
> 
> Also, I made Zayn, Perrie, and Scott Mills horrible-ish people in this. This story does not reflect my real feelings about them. I just think it’s more fun to use people we know rather than make someone up.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to Z for sticking with me on this one even though Gryles is not their thing.

Nick Grimshaw has been running late all morning.

He tosses on his coat and snatches up the scarf he left lying on the table last night, accidentally knocking a mug and splashing some leftover tea on the book he’d been reading. He doesn’t have time to worry about it though as he grabs his satchel, his keys, presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, and rushes out the door.

Some days Nick doesn’t completely hate his job. Some days he’s sort of thankful that he followed his father’s advice and secured a nice, sturdy career to support himself. He doesn’t absolutely dread the entire Tube ride to work, doesn’t roll his eyes at his bland, lifeless co-workers at the accounting firm that saw fit to hire him straight out of Uni. He doesn’t want to strangle Scott Mills, who sees Nick as his biggest competition on the journey up the corporate ladder. Some days.

Today is not one of those days.

Today is one of the days where Nick wishes he were back in the comfort of his big, comfy bed, in his boyfriend’s warm embrace. One of the days where he pushes through the early morning work-crowd wishing he were headed in the opposite direction. Today is a day where he fakes his smile at his boss’ greeting of ‘good morning’ and lets loose a dissatisfied sigh when he finally slinks down into the chair at his desk in his office.

It’s in the breakroom during lunch that Nick decides that he’s absolutely _had it_ with this day. He’s dropped his phone in front of the shared office fridge and he’s bending to pick it up when Scott comes in and steps around Nick to open the freezer. He’s like a twat-y ninja, Scott Mills, always sneaking up on Nick and laughing his arse off when he manages to give Nick’s poor heart a good scare. That’s not what does it for Nick this time though. No, this time, when Scott says “Hiya, Nick” all sudden and out of nowhere while Nick is bent over to retrieve his phone, he _leaves the freezer open_.

Nick stands quickly (it’s not something he can help, it’s a _reflex_ , okay?) and whacks his head against the freezer door.

“ _Ouugh_.” He groans while Scott just barely manages an apology through his laughter, not meaning a word of it.

Nick ignores the backhanded comments that Scott makes out of “ _concern_ ” and tries to tough it out and finish the workday but he gets woozy and nauseated every time he moves his head too fast. In the end, he decides it would be best to head home early.

He gets the okay from his boss, wraps himself up in his jacket and scarf, grabs his satchel and makes his way back to the Underground.

He’s daydreaming about taking something for his persistent headache and climbing back in his soft bed when he almost crashes into a little girl that’s stepped in his path. Nick side-steps, wobbling on his feet for a second before pushing on, just missing her and running for the door of the train. Unfortunately, he also just misses his ride home as the doors close in his face.

 

_**~*~*~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_** _

 

He’s daydreaming about taking something for his persistent headache and climbing back in his soft bed when he notices a mother pulling her daughter out of his way before either of them can cause the other damage. He realises his time is running short and rushes toward the Tube, slipping inside just as the doors close behind him.

There are no available seats in this section so Nick grabs onto the handrail above his head and tries to remain balanced as the train speeds its way down the tracks. The feel of the fast movement beneath his feet makes his head swim a bit and at the lurch of the first stop he almost tumbles over.

“Whoa, careful,” a deep, concerned voice speaks from behind Nick as hands grasp his waist to keep him from falling.

Once he’s steady again, Nick turns to thank his saviour, only to find himself looking into a pair of heavenly green eyes found on the face of an angel. Or maybe Nick’s delirious, he can’t tell.

“Are you okay?” The angel speaks, his lips turned down at the corners as he looks Nick over, as though searching for some kind of injury that’s responsible for Nick’s faulty equilibrium. He’s looking in all the wrong places, not that Nick minds having the angel’s eyes on him. No, wait… there’s a reason he should mind. What was it? ...Look at those curls falling to his shoulders. Gosh, he’s so pretty. Oh! Wait. Pretty. Prett— Zayn! Boyfriend. Nick has a boyfriend. Angel needs to keep his hands to himself. Nick’s taken.

Angel’s hands remain where they are.

Angel is staring now, looking even more concerned. Why is he looking at Nick like that? Oh, he asked Nick something. What was it?

“Are you? Okay?” Angel asks again, sounding less sure that he believes ‘okay’ is a possibility.

“Yes, sorry,” Nick’s mouth finally catches up with his brain. “Sorry. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You sure?” Angel’s hands are still on Nick’s hips but his grip is a little looser. That shouldn’t be so disappointing.

“I’m sure. But thank you for catching me. I’d hate to have bruised my tailbone back there,” Nick answers with a grin that undoubtedly looks as goofy as it feels. It’s a good thing he’s not trying to pull because he’s not getting anyone with these moves. “Or worse, my ego.” (Cringe.)

“You’re welcome,” Angel smiles back, laughing a little and letting one hand fall to his side while the other reaches up to grab the handrail.

They travel in silence for a few minutes, Nick now facing the other man. His blood doesn’t feel so much like it’s rushing through his head anymore. Of course, that may be because it’s found other areas to be of more interest just now.

At the next stop Nick doesn’t stumble but Angel looks like he’s preparing for it, just in case. Eyes lingering on Nick until they start moving again. Nick feels the need to reassure him for some reason.

“I’m not always so clumsy, you know,” Nick tells him.

“Oh?” Angel asks with a cute little half-grin. “What makes today different?”

“Could be the bump I took to my head earlier.” Nick says it in a joking manner but Angel becomes visibly concerned again.

“Are you sure you’re okay? If it’s messing with your balance, perhaps we should get you to A&E,” Angel says, stepping closer and not hesitating to try and put his hands in Nick’s hair to check for a welt.

Nick laughs, charmed by how concerned this stranger is for his safety as he dodges the hands aiming for his quiff. “No, I think I’m okay now. But thank you for your concern…”

He trails off, leaving an opening for Angel to give his name. Nick can’t keep calling him Angel or he’s going to accidentally end up saying it out loud. Especially after the day he’s had.

“Harry,” Angel provides, offering a hand to shake. “Harry Styles.”

“Nick Grimshaw,” Nick returns, taking Ang— Harry’s hand. It’s soft, his grip confident. Nick might hold it a tad bit longer than absolutely necessary.

“So, what do you do, Nick?” Harry asks with a gleam in his eye. He’s wearing a sweet smile and there’s nothing lascivious about the way he’s looking at Nick, but that gleam speaks volumes. Nick thinks this might be subtle flirting on Harry’s part. Nick’s been with Zayn for two years now, his flirting days are supposed to be over.

“I’m in accounting.” Nick answers expecting Harry’s eyes to glaze over any second. He wouldn’t blame him. Even Nick thinks his job is boring.

“Oh? Is that your dream job? Running numbers?” Harry questions and, if Nick isn’t mistaken, his interest seems genuine.

“Not even close,” Nick laughs. “It pays the bills for me and my boyfriend.”

Better slip in the boyfriend bit now before the flirting gets into dangerous territory where Harry thinks that Nick’s been leading him on.

The gleam in Harry’s eyes dies quite suddenly but his smile remains pleasant. He’s taken the hint and there’s no hard feelings. Nick breathes a little easier but also sort of wants to give that little gleam a nice wake. Lots of booze, loss of inhibitions. He kind of wants to clap his hands and tell it he _believes_ , see if he can bring it back to life, like Tinkerbell.

“What do you do, Harry Styles?” Nick asks Harry, internally wincing at his ridiculous inner monologue.

“Struggling musician,” Harry answers succinctly and Nick wonders if maybe there’s a bit of hard feelings after all.

“You _do_ struggling musicians? Is this a community outreach program?” Nick jokes, hoping to make Harry laugh.

Success. Harry’s eyes scrunch up adorably as a bark of laughter escapes him. He covers his mouth, eyes wide like he’s just as surprised by the noise he’s made as Nick is.

“I’ve never made that sound before,” Harry lies. It’s obviously a lie by his tone of voice but Nick won’t call him out on it.

The train starts slowing, preparing for another stop and Nick realises, with far more disappointment than the situation calls for, that it’s his stop.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Harry Styles the struggling musician, but I’m afraid this is my stop,” Nick announces.

Harry smiles at him, a glorious sight indeed, eyes shining with a fondness Nick wasn’t aware people could earn so quickly. “Likewise, Nick Grimshaw.”

Nick is absurdly grateful that Harry didn’t attach his job title onto his name. It’s not exactly something Nick hopes to be remembered for.

At his stop, Nick pushes his way toward the exit.

“And Nick,” Harry calls out to him.

He turns, unreasonably curious to find out what else Harry has to say to him.

“Make sure that boyfriend of yours takes good care of you. Have him get you to A&E if you need it,” Harry implores, that familiar look of worry on his face as he speaks.

Nick smiles. “Will do, Harold.”

Nick wears that smile the rest of the way home, the encounter with a lovely stranger enough to turn his day around.

 

**-@-**

 

Nick curses when he realises he’s missed his ride home. He could wait the ten minutes for the next train or he could get a cab. He hates riding in cabs. Sitting alone in the back seat either pretending to be busy or looking like a lonely fool with no friends. Either way, he feels pathetic. That’s what Nick likes about the tube. He may be pathetic, but he’s never alone. He doesn’t feel like standing by and idly waiting though. Cab it is then.

Making his way to the street, he stops at the curb and sticks his hand out to hail a cab.

One is just pulling over for him when his satchel is yanked unceremoniously and almost makes it off his shoulder before his reflexes kick in and he grabs the strap, tugging it back. It’s happened so fast that Nick is only just realising that this is an attempted mugging as he plays tug of war with his satchel and a shady looking man with blond hair and a sneer on his face.

“Gimme the bag,” the man snarls at him.

“Fuck off,” Nick growls back, giving the satchel an extra hard yank. He’s in no mood for other people’s shit today. If it’s a game they’re playing, then Nick will be the victor. He’s got to win at _something_. He deserves this one.

The other man gives up, turning and running off just as the cab driver gets out to make sure that Nick is okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nick answers, trying not to be short with the driver but not certain he’s succeeded. He’s a little suspicious of the cab driver’s timing. Could he not have gotten out sooner and tried to run the thief off? Oh, well, Nick supposes he should just be happy that he didn’t drive away and leave Nick stranded again. The thief may not have given up so easily then.

He steps towards the cab, not really looking as he resituates his satchel on his shoulder. Unfortunately, out of a sense of courtesy, the cab driver opens the door for Nick while he’s busy with his bag and Nick walks right into it. With his head. Painfully. _Really_ painfully. Nick’s feeling a bit dizzy again, and nausea is swiftly becoming an issue as well.

Nick groans and clutches his head as the cab driver fusses over him, apologising repeatedly and promising to get Nick to A&E. Nick would normally argue, brush it off as a minor injury even though when he pulls his hand away from his head he can see that he’s bleeding a little. But this minor injury and his earlier minor injury may have morphed into a mildly concerning, not-quite-so-minor injury. His thoughts are barely making sense even to him so, clearly, he’d probably do well with some medical attention.

The cabbie sees him into the waiting area and tells reception what happened then pats Nick on the shoulder and leaves without payment. Nick thinks having to wait alone in the hard, plastic chairs of the waiting area is payment enough. He thinks he’s going to die here in the waiting room, probably by thinking himself to death. Maybe by that shifty-looking chav across the room that seems like he’s going to bolt if anyone takes a tiny step in his direction. He groans and rests his head in his hands trying not to think anymore.

By the time Nick has been checked out, informing the doctor when she asks that this is his second head injury of the day, Zayn is there, rushing to his side and fawning all over him.

“Babe, are you all right?” Zayn asks, reaching out to brush a finger over the stitches that decorate the small cut on Nick’s forehead.

“I’m fine,” Nick gives his usual answer, lie though it is, as he winces at Zayn’s touch and cringes away. It _stings_ is all.

“Are you responsible for getting this one home?” The doctor asks, looking Zayn over. He’s got model good looks. Even in the loose joggers and worn t-shirt he’s wearing under his leather jacket, he still somehow manages to look like he’s stepped off a runway. Nick doesn’t _think_ the doctor is looking at Zayn with interest, but he wouldn’t blame her if she was.

“Yeah. I’m his boyfriend,” Zayn answers and, even after two years, hearing those words makes Nick’s heart do stupid things.

“Okay, well, your boyfriend has a mild concussion. His body needs physical as well as mental rest, so no strenuous activities. No reading or television for 24 hours, just to be safe. It’s mentally straining. Things like Ibuprofen or alcohol could exacerbate his condition so make sure that he steers clear. He’s complained of dizziness and nausea, if that persists or worsens bring him back here immediately. Understood?” The doctor speaks with strict professionalism.

“Yeah, got it,” Zayn answers, taking Nick’s hand and looking at him with such concern. Nick feels loved right now. So loved. He kind of wants to suck Zayn off right here.

Zayn’s takes his hand from Nick’s hold and uses it to cover his eyes like he’s embarrassed while the doctor looks like she’s fighting a smile as she says “You’re all done here.” Both of which make Nick wonder if maybe he’s been thinking out loud. Before he can ask, there’s another person rushing to his side.

“Nick, are you alright?” Aimee asks, a bit breathless as she wraps her arms around him.

Nick’s getting a bit tired of hearing those words.

“He has a concussion,” Zayn answers for him and Aimee nearly hisses when she realises that Zayn is there too. Nick doesn’t know why his best friend and his boyfriend have never gotten along but he often finds their interactions fairly entertaining and amusing. Don’t get him wrong, he’d love it if his two favourite people could be in the same room without feeling the need for insults.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Aimee asks Zayn bitingly.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Zayn answers in the same tone. “I’m also listed as his emergency contact.”

“Well, Nick called _me_ ,” Aimee retorts smugly.

“You did?” Zayn asks, looking at Nick like he’s betrayed him somehow.

But. Wait. “I did?” Nick questions as well. When the hell did he make a phone call?

“You don’t remember?” Aimee asks, eyes full of worry again.

“Concussion,” Zayn tells her like she’s an idiot. It’s possible he thinks she is. Nick takes it back, this isn’t entertaining or funny.

“Can we go?” Nick hates the whiny quality to his voice just now, but it works to get their attention focused on him rather than each other. Of course, that just causes another problem.

“Sure.”

“Absolutely.”

Both Zayn and Aimee agree to take him home at the same and then proceed to glare at each other as they fight about who’s going to take care of him. Nick would roll his eyes, but he’s pretty sure that would be a bad idea given his current state. Apparently, this is in his hands.

“Aimee, thank you for coming, love. It means the world to me, really, but I just want to go home,” Nick says, finally putting a stop to their arguing.

“Are you sure?” Aimee asks, looking at Zayn like he can’t be trusted.

“Yes,” Nick answers firmly.

“Alright,” Aimee agrees reluctantly, “but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ring me.”

“I won’t,” Nick promises kissing her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, take care,” Aimee returns, leaving him with Zayn.

Zayn takes Nick’s hand gently in his own. “Let’s go home, babe.”

Nick is more than happy to oblige.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

 When Nick arrives to his flat, he notices a very flashy red car out front on his way in. It seems familiar for some reason but he can’t for the life of him figure out why.

He brushes it off as just a vague sense of déjà vu, eager to get inside and nap or veg out on the couch with Zayn and a crappy movie. Maybe some wine, too.

Only that isn’t what happens.

When he reaches the door, he can already hear music playing inside. That’s nothing unusual. Zayn is a writer and tends to use music to set the mood for the scene he’s trying to flesh out on paper. What’s unusual is the artist. It’s Elton John. Zayn hates Elton John.

Nick unlocks the door, drops his satchel on the floor next to it, and takes off his scarf and jacket. He hangs them up on the hook by the door and steps further into the room. Zayn isn’t at his typewriter. Nick thinks it’s a little pretentious to still use a typewriter anyway, it just makes more work for whoever has to edit once Zayn’s done. It’s so much more efficient to put everything on a memory stick.

Nick scoffs at the direction his thoughts have gone and moves toward the bedroom. Maybe Zayn’s in the shower. If he was listening to the radio and “Bennie and the Jets” just happened to come on, that would explain why Zayn hadn’t switched it off.

And yeah, that turns out not to be the case either when Nick opens the bedroom door to see a blonde woman riding his boyfriend’s dick.

He stands there, shocked and appalled, and waits to be noticed. This plan would work better if Zayn would open his fucking eyes but either he’s enjoying himself too much, or he’s busy picturing someone else on his dick. Nick guesses from the moans leaving Zayn’s mouth that it’s the former (but, honestly, given the situation he wouldn’t put it past Zayn for both options to be true).

Nick leans against the door frame, arms crossed, and watches patiently. He thinks he should probably be screaming right now but he feels a bit numb. Also, morbidly curious. He supposes one or both of those could be attributed to being in shock.

Finally, Zayn opens his eyes. They seem unfocused at first because he’s staring straight at Nick but doesn’t seem to see him. He recognises the instant that Zayn realises. Eye’s widening, jaw dropping as he pushes the girl off of him suddenly, but making no move to give Nick any kind of explanation. Nick probably wouldn’t listen anyway because the numbness is swiftly stripping away and when he reaches out for something to grab onto, anger is all that he finds.

“You shouldn’t just stop like that, you’ll give the poor girl a complex or something,” Nick says glaring down at Zayn, face utterly unimpressed. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Perrie,” the girl answers boldly when Zayn doesn’t appear to have the guts to.

Nick doesn’t even give the girl a glance when it strikes him quite suddenly why the car outside seemed so familiar. He’s seen that car in some of the pictures that Zayn keeps. In most of the pictures, there’s a blonde woman, a “friend” of Zayn’s. Nick assumes that this is her. He wonders if she was ever anything even resembling a friend. He stares at Zayn, waiting for him to say something, anything.

He doesn’t and Perrie, it seems, has run out of patience with this whole situation and gathers her clothes without a word.

Nick waits for her to leave before he just starts babbling angrily. “Well, I’ve had a terrible day. I’ve been knocked round the head, I stopped an attractive, younger man from flirting with me-when it seems I had no reason to- and unfortunately I get to keep the job I hate for another day because I’ve not yet been sacked. Looks like you have though.”

Nick grinds his teeth together in an attempt to prevent himself from lashing out, as Zayn sits there wordlessly. He blinks, a pathetic look of pity on his face, and that just gets on Nick’s nerves. He tilts his head slightly to the side and smiles sweetly. “Cup of tea?”

Finally, Zayn deems him worthy of words as he shuffles off the bed and up to Nick, holding their blanket around his waist. As he opens his mouth to speak, Nick thinks “oh excellent, this should be good”.

“Nick,” Zayn says. And then he says nothing else.

“Well, that is a really thought out explanation, Zayn. I don’t know how I could possibly argue with that,” Nick snipes. Then, he loses it completely, and punches Zayn in the nose.

Nick thinks his fist probably hurts more than Zayn’s face does, which is a shame to be sure. But there’s a trail of blood streaming from Zayn’s nose and that gives Nick a nice little thrill of vindication. His hurt fist was not injured in vain.

“How long?” Nick asks as he tries to shake away the pain. Nope. Bad idea. He cradles his hand to his chest instead. “Do you love her?”

Zayn opens his mouth, like maybe he’ll give Nick an actual answer this time.

“No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,” Nick rushes to cut him off before changing his mind again. “Ok, yes, tell me. I need to know.”

Zayn remains useless in the speech department, saying nothing but looking at Nick pathetically. Nick can’t even tell if he looks that way because he knows he’s a pathetic excuse for a human being or because he thinks Nick is.

“You know what, you’re right. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say anyway.”

Nick walks back to the front door, puts on his coat and scarf, picks up his satchel, and leaves. He hopes Aimee can take him in on such short notice.

 

**-@-**

 

Zayn puts Nick to bed when they get home and then proceeds to wait on him hand and foot. He brings Nick soup and reads to him and Nick thinks it’s all incredibly sweet. He also thinks that maybe he should get injured (or at least _fake_ an injury) more often because Zayn is never _this_ sweet. It almost feels like he’s trying to make up for something. Nick doesn’t remember Zayn doing anything that he should need forgiveness for but he _has_ suffered a head injury.

When they lay down for bed that night, Zayn wraps Nick in his arms and holds him tightly, like he’s something precious. Nick feels warm and cosy and lets that feeling that something’s not quite right fade from his mind.

He doesn’t wake when Zayn gets up in the middle of the night to take a phone call. He doesn’t hear the hiss of “I told you not to call me tonight” or the bathroom door creaking closed as Zayn hides behind it to talk instead of hanging up on his late-night caller.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Nick never should have doubted Aimee. She takes him in with no fuss whatsoever and doesn’t look at him like he’s pathetic or a burden. She provides him with alcohol and a shoulder to cry on. He doesn’t really get weepy until his fifth glass of wine but Aimee just puts on another cheesy chick flick that they proceed to make fun of and throw popcorn at while Nick litters her coffee table with tissues and, every now and then, snots on her jumper.

Nick knows that he’s going to feel twice as bad in the morning, but he also knows that Aimee will encourage him to skip work and proceed to share a lie in with him, despite the fact that she’s not nearly as hung over as he is, just because she knows he needs her.

Nick loves Aimee.

Nick Hates Zayn. Capital “H” Hates him, so it’s obviously serious business.

Aimee listens to him prattle on about it until he passes out, face down, on her couch.

 

**-@-**

 

Nick expects things to be back to normal when he wakes in the morning. They aren’t though. Zayn continues to tend to him like he’s broken all his limbs instead of just bumped his head a couple of times. He refuses to let Nick go to work on the grounds that his 24 hours aren’t up and Nick doesn’t need to be staring at numbers all day, straining himself mentally.

Nick has never really thought of Zayn as a nurturer. Mainly because Nick does all the providing in their relationship. He works all hours to support the two of them while Zayn writes his novel. But this. This is a new side of Zayn that has Nick thinking about things he’d never let himself consider for them too deeply before. Zayn’s never particularly been excited about the prospect of having a family but Nick’s beginning to imagine what he’d be like as a father. They haven’t talked about it in a long time, maybe he’s changed his mind since then. Maybe Nick should bring it up again.

“Zayn,” Nick starts later that evening, as Zayn is fluffing his pillows for the fifteenth time.

“What is it, babe? Can I get you something?” Zayn asks, just shy of actual fretting.

“No,” Nick groans. “Just, sit down will you?”

Zayn sits a bit too far away for casual cuddling while they talk, a wary look on his face.

Nick isn’t sure where to start. Last time, Zayn had jumped from slightly sceptical of the idea to full on vexed like a strike of lightening. Nick supposes he pushes too hard sometimes. He’ll have to try not to do that this time, but at the same time, the only way he knows how to go about this is to rip the plaster off.

“We haven’t talked about starting a family in a while,” Nick begins quietly.

“Nick, you know how I feel about that,” Zayn interrupts, the way Nick sort of knew, deep down, that he would. “Until I finish my book, you’re the only one bringing in money. We can’t afford a kid right now.”

“If we’re waiting until we’re financially stable, we’ll never have a family, Zayn,” Nick argues. So, sue him. He’s really thought about this, you know, back before he thought it was an improbability. And ok, maybe he has the errant daydream now and then, he’s only human.

The look on Zayn’s face goes from frustration to something close to guilt. No, not _close to_. It _is_ guilt. And that’s when it dawns on Nick.

“But that’s your plan isn’t it?” Nick accuses. Is it still considered an accusation if it’s true? Or is it just a statement of fact?

“Nick, babe—”

Nick doesn’t let him finish before he’s rising from the bed despite Zayn’s protests about his health.

“My head is fine!” Nick yells, pushing past Zayn to grab his coat. “Or if it’s not, it’s nothing physical.”

Nick makes it a point to slam the door when he leaves. He needs a drink. His 24 hours should be up by now anyway.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Nick moans into the cushions of Aimee’s couch when he wakes. His head hurts and it’s got nothing to do with him bumping it yesterday. Also, his mouth tastes like ass and he’s pretty sure it’s not Aimee’s. She’s really not his type. Also _also_ , there’s an ache in his fucking chest because his boyfriend is a cheating dickwad. **Ex**. Ex-boyfriend.

God, Nick already misses him. What a fucking idiot.

True to his drunken predictions, he and Aimee both call in sick to work. They laze around her flat for most of the morning. Nick lets her cook them a fry up for breakfast while he sits on her couch and wallows. He wants to lament his pain, scream it out loud but keeps it to himself. He doesn’t think Aimee would mind, she’s been there before, but he somehow doubts that her neighbours would be as forgiving.

“What’s on the menu for tonight?” Aimee asks when she sets Nick’s food in his lap. Her friend is hurting, couch cushions be damned.

Nick looks at her sceptically. “You expect me to get off your couch?”

“Nick, love. I let you wallow last night, like any good friend would do. But tonight is the start of moving the fuck on.”

“We were together for two years, Aims, aren’t I supposed to get a year to wallow? Isn’t that the rule?” Nick argues, though if he’s honest, sulking is starting to make his skin itch.

“That’s only the rule for people without friends good enough to push them to move on instead of dwelling on the pissbucket that never deserved them in the first place,” Aimee states, calmly stuffing more food into her mouth.

Nick snorts but doesn’t disagree. Aimee is totally that kind of friend. He would trust Aimee to the ends of the Earth, so he’s going to do the adult thing and follow her advice here. After wallowing for a few more hours. Okay, just two. Two hours and then he’ll try to put his two year relationship with Cheater McBusyPrick behind him.

“So,” Aimee asks again, “what’s on the menu for tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Nick huffs. It’s been so long since he’s been in a breakup. Does he go the soothing route and make Aimee take him to a day spa or something? The vengeance route, destroying something Zayn cares about? Nick is totally going for that pretentious fucking typewriter if they go down this path. Or maybe somewhere in the middle, a cathartic round of Karaoke where every song is about twatty ex-boyfriends and Zayn gets _all the dedications_. “Destroying his shit?”

Never let it be said that Nick doesn’t carry a heavy dose of anger when wronged.

“I was thinking more along the likes of a round of ‘ _I hate my ex’_ karaoke,” Aimee suggests instead.

Fortunately, Nick also has Aimee to keep him from acting on his baser instincts. Damn, he was really looking forward to getting his hands on that typewriter.

“Yeah, ok,” he gives in without a fight. Because Zayn and his shit are not worth fighting for. Not anymore.

So, he wallows for the last two hours that he’s allotted himself and then he gets up and starts acting like a human being again. He has Aimee go get him some clothes from Zayn’s flat while he showers. He’ll get the rest of his stuff later, or more likely have Aimee and his other best mate Louis do it.

Shit, he hasn’t informed Louis about anything that’s going on yet. He’ll likely be offended that Nick went to Aimee first.

Louis doesn’t actually dislike Aimee at all. In reality, they get on really well. It’s just that Louis has a competitive streak that doesn’t always see reason. He’ll get jealous despite the fact that he knows Aimee was Nick’s friend long before they even met, not to mention that Nick was not exactly in the frame of mind to be picky when he came calling at Aimee’s door in the middle of the afternoon. Nick hopes that an invitation to ex-boyfriend-bashing night will tame the beast.

When Aimee returns, Nick is on her couch wearing her bathrobe and trying to talk Louis out of going up to Zayn and tearing off his bollocks. He doesn’t really mind if Zayn goes through the rest of his life with no bollocks, he just doesn’t want to risk Louis catching anything from them. Wow. That was catty. Nick is downright catty tonight. That deserves a “ _RAWR_ ”. Louis doesn’t disappoint when Nick tells him as much.

So, the plan is to go out with Aimee and Louis, sing some vengeful breakup songs, and begin the process of getting the fuck over Twatwad Doucheydick.

And for the first time all day, Nick feels like he may actually be able to do it. After all, he’s only wondered a mere eight times in the last hour why Zayn hasn’t tried calling him yet.

Fuck. He’s completely buggered isn’t he?

 

**-@-**

 

Nick sits at his favourite pub, waiting for Aimee to come and help him get completely sloshed.

There’s no karaoke tonight but there is live music. Nick watches the singer up on the small stage as he plays an acoustic guitar and damn near makes the crowd swoon with his sultry tones and heart-rending lyrics. Nick kind of wants to swoon at the singer with the face of an angel, too.

He’s still studying the lad with the curls to his shoulders and his shirt open but for the last three buttons, nipples on full display, when Aimee finally arrives.

“Have you dumped Zayn’s sorry arse? Because if you have, and you’re looking to get back in the dating game again, _that_ is an excellent first choice,” she says as she sits on the stool next to Nick, staring over at the singer as she does.

“No, I’ve not dumped Zayn. We’ve just had a little spat is all,” Nick tells her, forcing himself to look away from the man on stage.

“A _little spat_?” Aimee repeats doubtfully. “A little spat doesn’t usually end up in you calling me to join you for an all-night drinking binge.”

Nick says nothing apart from his drink order as the bartender arrives. He gets the feeling he should have started without Aimee. This conversation might go a little smoother if he was a bit more relaxed already.

“Nick, what happened?” Aimee asks, finally looking as sympathetic as Nick was hoping for.

“He doesn’t want to start a family with me, Aims. What am I supposed to take from that?” Nick whines pitifully.

“Some people just aren’t cut out for children, Nick. That doesn’t mean it’s anything to do with you,” Aimee tries to assure him, her facial expression going from compassionate to sour as she continues on. “Zayn’s probably not really suited for fatherhood.”

Nick groans. “I’ve never understood why you hate him so much.”

“Well, for starters, there’s times like this,” Aimee states, taking a sip of her drink.

“No,” Nick shakes his head. He’s not had enough to drink to diminish his memory. He’s not had _anything_ to drink until now. “You hated him before we ever even had a fight. Practically since day one.”

For a moment, Nick isn’t sure what he’s seeing on Aimee’s face. He almost has it pinned down but then it’s changing again, a kind of determination taking its place.

“Look, Nick, it’s not for me to tell you who you can and can’t date, even if I think your boyfriend is the wankiest wanker to ever wank, so I’ll do my best to keep my opinions to myself. Unless you _do_ break up with him someday, and then it will be my privilege as your best friend to encourage you to join me calling him every curse word we can think of in this or any other language. But, until then, I am here only to support you in your terrible life choices,” Aimee rants from her soapbox (read: barstool).

“Aw, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Nick retorts wryly.

“I’m serious,” Aimee promises seriously as she reaches over and places her hand on top of Nick’s. “I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Thanks, Aims,” Nick replies. They are both being embarrassingly earnest now. It’s sort of sickening. You know, in a completely heartfelt way.

“And if Zayn doesn’t want a family with you, you can always have one with me,” Aimee continues.

Nick snorts his drink through his nose. It really fucking burns but the pain is no worse than the mental image that comes with _that_ statement.

“Um, Aimee,” Nick starts to protest weakly as he wipes at his nose with a cocktail napkin. “I think you’re forgetting one important bit of information.”

“Not like that!” Aimee pushes at Nick’s shoulder. There’s not enough force behind it to move him much. “I was thinking more along the lines of getting a dog together.”

Nick laughs at the offended look on Aimee’s face.

“Tosser,” Aimee mutters, shaking her head at him.

When Nick is done laughing, he takes a moment to actually consider. “Can I name it?”

“Absolutely not,” Aimee denies but Nick is pretty sure he can bring her around. Because Aimee loves him, whether she wants to or not. He’s 94% percent sure it’s voluntary.

He gets drunk with his friend and proceeds to follow her home to pass out on her couch. He doesn’t want to think about the talk he has coming with Zayn in the morning. So he doesn’t.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Louis and Aimee have teamed up for a rousing rendition of Demi Lovato’s “Really Don’t Care” while Nick sits this one out to catch his breath.

He’s three sheets to the wind and they’ve spent all night singing as many of the princesses of pop as they can think of. They’d started off with “Leave (Get Out)” by Jojo and proceeded into the more serious ex-boyfriend anthem territory of Taylor Swift. So, now Nick has informed the world (or rather, the bar) that Love is a Battlefield and he’s Never, Ever Ever Getting Back Together with his ex because he’s Stronger, he’s gonna Roar (not a break-up song but Aimee had insisted), and they’ve got Bad Blood. He’s just gearing up for “I Will Survive” (an oldie but a goody) when his mental preparations are interrupted.

“Nick Grimshaw.”

Nick turns when he hears the vaguely familiar voice and feels like smiling dopily because that’s Angel standing next to him. No, not Angel. What was it? Henry Stars? No, nope that wasn’t it. Harry… St…y..les?

“Got it in, well, three, I suppose,” Harry smiles like he’s utterly endeared by drunk Nick.

“I said that out loud?” Nick asks. He thinks he asks. He wasn’t aware of his lips moving before so he’s paying extra careful attention now. He’s pretty sure that means he’s making funny faces as he sounds out his words extra slow.

Harry nods through a light laugh and seems rather amused by Nick’s antics.

“How much of it?” Nick can’t quite remember what he’s said now so he doesn’t have any idea what Harry might have heard.

“Well, let’s see,” Harry pretends to think. “You called me Angel, though I’m not sure if you think that’s my species or my name. It’s neither, by the way. Then, you called me Henry, before finally deciding, correctly, that my name is Harry. Though I’m not sure how certain you are of my surname. It is in fact Styles, just so you know.”

Nick stares just a little too long after Harry’s done speaking. He thinks it should be weird, but Harry’s staring at him too.

“How’s your head?” Harry asks, reaching up like he’s going to run his fingers over it, checking for bumps and bruises again. Because, that’s right, he’d done that on the train yesterday too. But Harry pulls his hand back at the last second. Nick is absurdly disappointed until he catches the concern on Harry’s face. “Should you be drinking?”

“’S a bit late to worry about that, innit?” Nick slurs leaning in, probably a little too close, like he’s telling a secret. Really he just can’t fight Harry’s gravitational pull. “But don’t. Worry, that is. I’m fine. Didn’t even need to see a doctor.”

Harry doesn’t get to say anything else before Aimee and Louis are back at Nick’s sides. They both look Harry over like they’re impressed by him somehow. Nick doesn’t blame them. Harry is hot like burning. And Nick really hopes he’s stopped speaking his thoughts aloud.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

Louis and Aimee scramble to be the first to shake Harry’s offered hand and Nick snorts at their ineptitude in the face of a pretty boy. You’ll never catch him being so stupid. Okay, so that’s an outright lie but he’s allowed to lie to himself, especially tonight.

Nick is about to ask if Harry wants to join them, before Louis or Aimee can beat him to the punch, when Harry’s attention is drawn to the stage where there’s another pretty boy (but not nearly as pretty as Harry, in Nick’s humble opinion) singing something slow and mournful. Upon closer inspection, Nick recognises it as “Cry Me a River”.

“Oh no, Liam,” Harry mumbles to himself as he gazes compassionately at the boy on stage.

Catching Nick watching him, Harry explains. “That’s my best mate, Liam. He’s just been through a bad break-up. I thought we were dealing with it well, but apparently not if he’s brought out the Sinatra.”

“It must be bitter break-up night here tonight,” Aimee says callously. “Our friend Nick, here, has just had one too.”

Nick feels betrayed.

Aimee winks at him over Harry’s shoulder as Harry turns to him all concerned and, possibly, angry on his behalf, if Nick’s drunken mind is picking up on things correctly. “Your boyfriend broke up with you after you’ve had a head injury?”

“No, no,” Nick shakes his head. He should probably not do that. It makes the room a little swimmy. “I broke up with him after I found him shagging his girlfriend in our bed.”

Harry looks at a loss for words. Which is just as well because Liam’s song has ended and he’s making his way over to their group.

“Harry, I thought you’d disappeared on me,” Liam says faux-cheerfully, with a little sniff on the end.

“Come here, Li,” Harry says, pulling his friend into a hug.

Nick is jealous. He wants a hug. A Harry hug.

Nick needs to quit speaking his thoughts aloud. And he knows he has been because Harry pulls him into the hug with Liam, causing Liam to give Nick a questioning look before shrugging and going with it. Like this is just something Harry does, pulling near strangers into their embraces all the time.

When the hug breaks apart, Harry introduces Liam to everyone and they just kind of spend the rest of the evening together, talking over each other and laughing a bit too loud. It’s comfortable, nice. They end up all singing “I Will Survive” as a big group number. Then, just to be a little shit, Nick assumes, Harry gets up on his own and sings “It’s Raining Men” as the last number of the night.

Apparently, it was Harry’s attempt to remind people that there are plenty of fish in the sea. _Male_ fish. Fish that are plenty interested in making up for the mistakes of past, lesser fish. You know, when certain drunk, freshly broken-up fish are ready. And sober.

When Nick wakes up at Aimee’s in the morning, it’s with a vague memory of getting a kiss on the cheek from a certain flirty fish and Harry’s number written on his arm.

 

**-@-**

 

Nick sneaks into his apartment early in the morning to get a shower and dress for work.

Zayn is passed out in their bed, snoring lightly into his pillow. He looks so sweet lying there and Nick is almost sorry for bringing up the topic of starting a family. It’s at times like this when it’s easiest to remember why he loves Zayn. But then Nick remembers that they aren’t standing on solid ground right now and rather than facing that he ducks into the bathroom and starts the shower.

 He washes quickly and gets dressed as quietly as possible, trying not to wake up Zayn. He fails when he trips himself up while putting his trousers on and bumps into the dresser.

Zayn wakes slowly, moaning his objection. But he wakes fully when he recognises that Nick wasn’t there last night and now he is.

“Babe, you’re back,” Zayn says, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“I’m just getting dressed for work,” Nick answers tersely, much crosser now that Zayn’s awake. He finally gets his trousers taken care of and reaches into the drawer for some socks, refusing to look in Zayn’s direction. It just hurts knowing that Zayn doesn’t want _more_ with him. “I’ll be out of your hair in a mo.”

“Babe,” Zayn’s arms wrap around him from behind as he sits on the end of the bed to pull on his socks. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset.”

Nick slumps back putting his feet down on the floor and letting Zayn hold him against his chest. He doesn’t _want_ to be upset, he just is. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Zayn says softly, nuzzling Nick’s neck. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, alright,” Nick agrees easily enough, even though his heart isn’t completely in it.

“When you get home from work, I’ll cook you dinner, alright?”

Nick scoffs. “You’re going to make it up to me by cooking me a fancy dinner?”

“No,” Zayn chuckles. “I’m going to make it up to you with mind-blowing sex. The dinner’s just a bonus.”

Nick considers that for a moment before deciding that that’s a plan he can definitely get behind. “Want to start making it up to me now?”

“I would,” Zayn promises, “but you’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.”

Nick looks as the clock and curses. He rushes to get his shoes on and grab his satchel as Zayn laughs in the background.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Nick keeps thinking about the number recently added to his phone while he’s supposed to be working. He’s only just ended a relationship, he probably shouldn’t just jump into a new one. Perhaps he shouldn’t call Harry later then. Right. It’s decided. He’s not going to call.

Nick tries to get his head back into his work, looking at the spreadsheet he was checking over.

But maybe they could be friends. Harry seems like a really great friend to have. So, they could just have some friendly hangouts and it doesn’t have to mean anything else. Yeah, they could totally be mates. Nick will call him later and set a date to hang out with his new pal. But not like a **date**. Because they aren’t like that.

Nick pulls out his calculator and looks at the spreadsheet again.

What the fuck is he doing? He doesn’t need a calculator for this.

He sighs and resists the urge to bang his head against his desk. He’s had enough head injuries lately, thank you very much. He rests his forehead in his hand and exits out of the spreadsheet. He needs caffeine.

Nick leaves his desk and walks to the break room to make himself some coffee. They have one of those Tassimo machines that brews one cup at a time but, unfortunately, Nick’s favourite flavour is all out so all he has to choose from is a hazelnut blend and something called Black Forest Mocha. Nick goes with the hazelnut. The devil you know, right?

As he’s waiting for his coffee to finish, he finds himself absently rubbing his arm where Harry’s number was when he woke up this morning. It’s been scrubbed off by now but the memory of it remains, a phantom that kind of makes Nick feel the need to smile like an idiot.

Who does he think he’s kidding? He’s only just met Harry and already he’s smitten. Still, after what he just went through with Zayn, Nick is a bit wary of getting back out there again. And he doesn’t want Harry to just be some rebound fuck that he’ll never speak to again after. So, friends. Maybe he can manage that.

 

**-@-**

 

When Nick gets home from work, his fancy dinner is overcooked and the sex is mediocre, at best.

They don’t talk about it.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Nick likes living with Aimee. He does not like waking up on her couch every morning. He needs to find himself a new flat. Or her a better couch. Technically, his and Zayn’s names were both on the lease for their flat, but he’d really rather never set foot in that den of horrors ever again. He briefly wonders how Zayn’s going to pay rent when the month is over but then he remembers the blonde, Perrie, and the ache he’s been studiously ignoring in his chest flares to life, renewed. Zayn will probably go live with her. He hasn’t even called once to try and get Nick back or see if he’s okay. Aaannd Nick is going to cut that train of thought off right there. If he doesn’t he’ll likely end up back at the pub, looking at the world through the bottom of a pint glass.

He flops down on Aimee’s horrid couch, pulls out his phone and considers calling Harry. And then he puts his phone away because he knows if he calls right now, he’ll just end up shagging the other man as some sort of revenge plot against Zayn that won’t actually help and that Zayn will never find out about anyway. If that happens, then his plan for friendship with Harry goes flying out the window and that’s actually the last thing in the world that Nick wants.

He ends up calling Louis instead and immediately regrets it. Because all Louis wants to do is badmouth Zayn in a misguided effort to make Nick feel better. His heart’s in the right place but he tends to get a bit vindictive when someone he cares about has been wronged. Nick loves him but this is exactly what he doesn’t need.

God, Nick needs something to occupy his mind. He’d call Aimee but she’s still working. It’s only half five. She won’t be home for at least another hour, maybe later if she pops into the shops on the way home.

Groaning and telling himself that this is an incredibly stupid idea, Nick picks his phone back up and brings up Harry’s number. He wrestles with himself over it but eventually presses enter. Then, hangs up before it can even ring on the other end. What is he doing? He feels like a teenager all over again, trying to work up the nerve to call that fit boy in his class. He presses enter once more and brings the phone up to his ear. Nick tries to remain calm. He’s an adult. He can do this. He hears the phone ringing down the line and promptly hangs up again. _Sigh_. He’s such a child.

Before Nick can even think of moving from his spot to reach for the remote, giving in and allowing the idiot box to provide his entertainment, his phone is ringing in his hand, Harry’s name and number lighting up the screen.

Nick scrambles to sit upright, like Harry can see him somehow and would disapprove of his poor posture, then realises how ridiculous he’s being and answers the damn phone without further ado.

“Hello?” How does a voice crack so badly on a two syllable word?

“Hi. Someone from this number just called me?” God, he even sounds beautiful over the phone.

“Yes, that would be me, my dear Harold.” What the fuck? ‘My dear Harold’? Is he trying to pass himself off as Harry’s _grandmother_?

“Nick?” Apparently, he’s the only granny impostor Harry’s been flirting with lately. God, _he hopes_.

“You’re a much better guesser than I am, Henry Stars.” Grimace. Really, who thought it would be a good idea to teach Nick words?

“Why did you hang up?” No one has any right to sound confused and delighted at the same time. How?

“Uh, yeah, I… dropped my phone. I was just about to call back.” _Suave_ , Nick. Very suave.

“Oh, alright.”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Awkward silence. Say something Nick.

“Hey, how do you feel about milkshakes?” Harry rescues him.

“Love a good milkshake,” Nick answers.

“There’s a really great cafénear the pub that has terrific milkshakes. D’you want to go? My treat,” Harry offers. It’s really the perfect solution to Nick’s distraction problem.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty?” Nick poses it as a question in case Harry had other ideas.

“Perfect.”

So, Nick grabs his coat and keys and meets Harry for milkshakes. It’s absolutely not a date.

 

**-@-**

 

“Fuck,” Zayn says looking through their post at the little table by the front door.

“What is it, Zayn?” Nick asks from where he’s lounging on the couch. He’s taking a much needed break from the work he’s brought home with him. He’ll get back to it in a minute but, for now, he’s _deserves_ a rest.

“They’re upping the rent,” Zayn answers, moving to the couch and showing Nick the official letter in his hand.

“What?!? They just raised rent last year,” Nick argues, taking the paper and reading it carefully.

Zayn wasn’t kidding. Their rent is going up another £50 a month. Even with Nick’s salary being what it is, that’s going to be spreading them a bit thin. Well, spreading Nick a bit thin until Zayn a) finishes his novel and b) sells it.

Nick lets out a heavy breath and reaches for his work. Back to the grindstone. He’s going to have to work some serious overtime to be able to keep them living comfortably.

“I could get a job as a waiter or something,” Zayn offers tentatively, obviously not wanting to make the offer but feeling obligated. He sits on the back of the couch deep in thought and then proceeds to talk himself into a downward spiral of self-doubt. “Help out around here. I mean, I should just give up the novel. It’s going to take ages to finish and it’s not like I’m any good anyway.”

“No, babe,” Nick stops what he’s doing and gives Zayn his full attention. “I’ll work some overtime. We’ll be fine. It’ll mean less time for us but we’ll make it. And you’re a terrific writer. I have all the faith that you’re going to be a global sensation, darling.”

Zayn gives Nick a sad smile and bends down to gift him a peck on the lips.

“You’re amazing,” He murmurs, ruffling Nick’s hair affectionately with his fingers before backing off the couch and disappearing into their bedroom.

Nick appreciates the offer, even though he knows it wasn’t heartfelt. It’s better than Zayn not offering at all. Nick thinks he’s probably supposed to feel resentful about the fact that he’s the only one contributing to their household but he doesn’t. He was forced to give up his dream a long time ago, he’ll be damned if he’s going to do the same to his boyfriend.

Zayn leaves a few minutes later, saying that he’s going to the library to do research for the novel.

Nick smiles and lets him go without a fuss. He thinks it’s sweet that their conversation has led to Zayn wanting to finish his novel quicker for the sake of their relationship.

And it would be, if Zayn were really going to the library.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

“One banana milkshake, two straws please,” Harry orders as soon as they sit down on side by side stools at the counter.

He laughs when he sees Nick, with one raised eyebrow, looking at him sternly.

“No? _Damn!_ I thought that was smooth,” Harry laughs, calling their waitress back with a wave of his hand so that Nick can order his own milkshake. He takes it in stride, like he hadn’t really expected it to work anyway.

“I don’t know what kind of boy you think I am, Harry Styles. But I don’t just stick anyone’s banana in my mouth,” Nick teases after he’s ordered. God, he’s hopeless. His new pal doesn’t seem to mind.

Harry lets loose that bark of laughter that’s apparently not as rare as he’d protested before. Nick knew he was lying. And he’s so fucking cute as he covers his mouth with his hand until he can get his giggles under control.

“That’s good to know,” Harry assures him with a playful grin, nodding at the waitress in thanks as she brings his milkshake.

Nick gets his a couple of minutes later but barely notices because they’ve started an actual conversation.

“So, what’s your dream job?” Harry asks when they’re deep in, entrenched in information about each other. “You said before that accounting just pays the bills. What did you really want to do with your life?”

“Ah, it’s sort of embarrassing,” Nick fusses, swirling his milkshake with his straw.

“No. I’m sure it’s not,” Harry disagrees. He looks so earnest that Nick can’t help but be inclined to trust him.

“Ok, but you can’t laugh,” Nick orders with narrowed eyes.

“Cross my heart,” Harry promises, even going so far as actually making a cross over his heart with one finger.

“When I was a young, idealistic youth-”

“That’s redundant,” Harry breaks in with a grin.

Nick slaps at him half-heartedly. “Shut up, I’m pouring my heart out here.”

“Sorry, sorry. Pour away.”

“Well the moment’s over now, innit?”

“ _Nick_.”

“Ok, fine. I wanted to go into radio. Wanted to be a radio DJ,” Nick finally spits out. He doesn’t tell many people the dreams of his youth, he feels too self-conscious about it. Every kid wants to be famous at some point, that’s understandable. But Nick still wants to, and that’s the embarrassing bit. He’s an adult. He should be over these wild, naïve fantasies by now. He’d told Zayn once and he had just made a face at the idea and moved on with the conversation, but Harry is just nodding his head like it makes sense that Nick dreams of sharing his life over the airwaves.

“I can see that,” He says seriously, nodding at the idea like he thinks it’s brilliant. Nick might love him a little for that. “Why didn’t you pursue it?”

“Well, I tried. I started out in communications at Uni. But then my parents didn’t approve. They said that I could go into any area of study that would lead to a sturdy, secure career but they wouldn’t pay for unrealistic whims that would end up with me living back in their house when I couldn’t find employment,” Nick tells him. He can still feel the sting of his father’s words to this day.

“Well, no offense, but your parents may be a bit daft if they can’t see what a great radio personality you’d make,” Harry tells him, hand on Nick’s knee as he speaks. It burns through Nick’s jeans. ”You have an excellent radio voice.”

“Well, thank you, Harry. You might be the only person who thinks so,” Nick says, drinking a bit more of his milkshake to have something to do with his mouth. Otherwise, this could lead to trouble.

“I doubt that,” Harry utters dryly, pulling his hand from Nick’s leg naturally, like he hadn’t even realised he’d sat it down there in the first place. Nick kind of wishes he would put it back.

He’s about to say something else, move the conversation in a different direction, when Harry’s face lights up.

“I have a friend in radio. I could introduce you to him,” he offers, grinning at Nick like an eager puppy. Nick does love puppies.

“I already have a job, Harry,” Nick declines, laughter in his voice.

“Yes. _But_ it’s one that you apparently hate. And I can possibly help you reach your dream. Dreams are important, Nick.” Harry delivers his lines like he’s teaching Nick the meaning of life. Maybe he is. Harry’s full of more life and colour than anyone else that Nick’s ever met.

“It’s a nice idea—”

“Come on, Nick. He’s really nice. He plays my demos on the radio sometimes, keeps me on the less dismal end of the struggling musician spectrum. You’ll love him, let me do this for you.” Harry is practically begging and Nick has always been a bit of a pushover for a pretty face. Besides, what harm can come from one meeting?

“Alright. I’ll meet him,” Nick agrees.

“Thank you.” Harry tells him like Nick’s the one doing _him_ a favour. “You won’t regret it.”

Nick has heard that plenty of times in his life. He’s always regretted it. But somehow, this time, he thinks that maybe he can believe it.

 

**-@-**

 

Nick spends way too much time working. He’s hardly seen Zayn at all this week, aside from when they’re going to bed, and he can tell he’s on the edge of burning out. But he just keeps going. He doesn’t really have a choice. He’s made his bed and now he must lie in it.

Aimee and Louis try to talk him into going out with them on Saturday evening but he’s planned on working from home so he turns them down. He had hoped to spend a little time with Zayn on his breaks but Zayn’s made other plans it seems. Which majorly sucks. The whole point of working from home was to see his boyfriend a little.

Of course, Nick has incredible friends that refuse to let him turn into a complete grown up. Not on their watch. So, they show up at his flat, despite his earlier refusal, and make him put his work to the side for the night. He needs it, if he’s honest, and the fact that they know that just goes to show how amazing they are. He doesn’t let himself think about the fact that Zayn hasn’t noticed.

They watch crap telly and drink all of Nick’s red wine, and then pull out the extra bottle that Louis brought and down that too. It’s a great night full of laughter and kinship. It’s probably the best night Nick’s had in ages and Zayn isn’t there for any of it. Nick doesn’t let himself think about that either.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Nick thinks he and Harry have gotten pretty good at this “friend” thing. They typically spend time together in groups. Harry will bring Liam along and Nick will bring Aimee or Louis, sometimes both, when they gather to hang out. And Nick is neither blind nor stupid. He sees the way Harry looks at him, knows that he wants so much more than what they have, but Nick hasn’t been ready and Harry respecting his boundaries is something he appreciates so much.

At times like this though, when it’s just the two of them, Nick _feels_ ready. He won’t know for sure until something actually happens so he’s hesitant to make the first move. At the same time, he doesn’t want Harry to make the first move and feel rejected if Nick discovers that he’s not ready after all. He’s plagued with indecision. It’s distracting.

“Nick? Have you been listening?” Harry asks, leaning into Nick’s line of sight from his seat next to him on the park bench they’re sharing.

He’s probably been staring straight ahead for the past few minutes without even realising it.

“Sorry, popstar. I got distracted,” Nick says making what he hopes is an apologetic face. “What were you saying?”

Harry gives him a little smile at the nickname. He thinks the name’s hilarious because, while he’s got some fans from his demos playing on the radio and the pubs he plays, he’s still not anywhere near widely known. Nick’s certain he would be if they got Harry’s face out there. Fans would come in droves for that face and then stay for his beautiful voice and sultry moves. Maybe Nick should forget radio and just be Harry’s manager.

“I was telling you that I finally got hold of Niall the other day. He said he’s available this Friday if you want to meet up with him then,” Harry looks far too excited for someone who’s getting nothing out of this. Nick wants to kiss him. “What do you say?”

“Wait, Niall? Horan? As in BBC Radio 1 Niall Horan? _That’s_ your friend in radio?” Nick asks in disbelief. He’s already getting nervous.

“Yeah. He’s lovely,” Harry answers.

“Harry, I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve got no real qualifications, why’s he even agreeing to speak to me?” Nick may or may not be freaking out a bit.

“Hey,” Harry captures Nick’s face lightly in the cradle of his hands. “He’s meeting you because he’s got it on good authority that you’d be amazing on his station. And you will, Nick. I know you will.”

You know what, _screw_ waiting for Harry to make the first move.

Nick leans in, Harry’s hands still on his cheeks, and presses his lips to Harry’s.

Harry is immediately on board, opening his mouth to let Nick in as he slides his hands back to grasp feverishly at Nick’s hair.

Nick is overwhelmed with feelings. Lust, adoration, eagerness.

Harry’s kiss is bruising, passionate in a way Nick hasn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. He’s making little mewling noises like he can’t get enough. Nick wants to give him everything. In this moment, Harry’s all Nick thinks he would ever need.

They break apart eventually only to look around them and start laughing. Because they’ve been making out on a park bench like teenagers. And they’ve caught the eyes of quite a few voyeurs it seems.

“Would you like to go somewhere more private?” Harry asks timidly, as though afraid he may be going too far.

“I’d love to,” Nick answers pressing another kiss to Harry’s reddened lips before standing and offering a hand to help Harry up. Harry continues to hold Nick’s hand once they are both on their feet. Nick enjoys every second as they walk back to Harry’s flat.

 

**-@-**

 

“What’s this, then?”

Nick wakes to the sound of Zayn’s angry voice. He rubs his eyes with one hand and stretches a bit.

“What are you on about?” He asks with a yawn.

Zayn doesn’t answer, just waits until Nick is staring at him questioningly before gazing very pointedly about two feet to Nick’s left. Where a half-naked Louis is sleeping on Zayn’s pillow. Nick isn’t sure if Zayn is upset about Louis being in the bed at all, or if he’s just upset about someone else drooling on his pillow.

“You fucking Louis, Nick?”

Well, that answers that.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not. How can you even ask me that?” Nick argues, sitting up. He’s not going to take Zayn’s accusations lying down. Pun very fucking much intended. Sometimes Nick makes jokes at inappropriate times. It’s a coping mechanism.

“How can I not ask that when I come home and find the two of you in our bed together?” Zayn retorts.

“Oh, fuck off. It’s not like we’re naked and you _know_ Louis’ just a friend. Aimee passed out on the couch and we were all drunk so I wasn’t going to send them home,” Nick says as he gets out bed and starts pulling on clothes.

“Well, Aimee’s not here _now_.” It sounds like an accusation, like Zayn doesn’t believe Aimee was in the flat at all.

“Then she left already.” He replies with a roll of his eyes, before glancing around the room. Where did he see his shoes last?

“Can I stop pretending to be asleep yet?” Louis calls from where he’s laid out, face down on the bed.

“No!” Nick and Zayn yell in unison. Louis, rather wisely, falls silent again.

“And where were _you_ all night?” Nick turns the fight around as he finds his shoes and starts shoving them on.

“I told you, I was out with Danny,” Zayn says, naming his own best friend as his alibi.

“Until… half-nine in the morning?” Nick checks his watch, he’d forgotten to take it off before falling asleep last night.

“I passed out on his floor.”

“Oh, sure,” Nick replies sarcastically. “And how do I know you weren’t out fucking Danny?”

“Why the fuck are you turning this around on me? You didn’t catch me and Danny in bed together! But Louis’ right fucking there,” Zayn finishes, forcefully pointing at Louis.

“Sleeping. Just sleeping. No fucking whatsoever, mate,” Louis mumbles from the bed. “I have me own boyfriend now if I wanna get fucked.”

“Please shut up, Louis,” Nick grumbles before turning back to Zayn. “I’m just saying, if you get to be hypocritical, so do I.”

“Fine,” Zayn concedes, all the fight going out of him suddenly. “You’re not fucking Louis.”

“Thank you,” Nick and Louis both say, the latter assuming it’s okay to get up now.

Louis throws on his clothes in a rush and hugs Nick goodbye at the door. He whispers that his place is available if Nick ends up needing somewhere to crash for a few days, before leaving the couple to deal with their issues in private.

“Do you not trust me, Zayn?” Nick asks plaintively once they’re alone.

Zayn’s silence speaks volumes. There are so many issues just piling on top of this relationship and, sooner or later, it’s going break under the weight.

“Well, I trust you,” Nick says, grabbing his keys and deciding he’s going into the office to do the work he didn’t get done yesterday.

Zayn stands in the same spot for a long time after Nick’s left. Guilt, sorrow, and self-loathing flowing through every part of him.

“You shouldn’t,” He finally confesses to his empty flat.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Nick wakes up next to Harry in the morning and can’t help but smile. His newly designated boyfriend is so beautiful, but like this, sheltered in sleep, unbothered by the worries of the world, it’s even more obvious how precious he is. Fuck, is it possible to fall in love this fast?

He carefully moves a tendril of hair from Harry’s face and tucks it behind his ear. Not carefully enough. Harry grins even before his eyes are open, and when they are, it widens at the sight of Nick watching.

“Hey.” Harry looks at him all starry eyed.

“Good morning, popstar,” Nick makes googly heart eyes back.

Harry shifts as he stretches and Nick feels Harry’s morning erection pressing into his thigh.

“Sorry,” Harry says, trying to move away because they haven’t done this yet. All they did last night was talk about what they wanted out of their relationship (because that’s what they have now), make out, and fall asleep wrapped up together in Harry’s bed.

“Don’t,” Nick pulls him back. ”Stay.”

“Nick, I’m not rushing you,” Harry argues but doesn’t pull away again.

“I don’t feel rushed,” Nick promises, kissing Harry chastely and letting him decide if he wants to brave morning breath kisses. He does and Nick doesn’t mind one bit.

They kiss and grind against each other for a few minute before Harry pulls back. Not away, just back a bit, just so he can make sure one last time that this is what they both want.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Harry checks, studying Nick’s face for any hint of discomfort. “If you’re not, it’s fine. I can make us breakfast instead.”

“And what would breakfast consist of?” Nick asks like he’s actually considering passing up sex for food.

“I could do eggs on toast or a fry up. Or, if you’d rather, I have loads of fruit,” Harry tells him seriously, honestly okay with Nick working him up and then deciding he’s not ready to follow through. Nick thinks it _is_ possible to fall in love this fast.

“What kind of fruit do you have?”

“Bananas...”

“You know, a banana sounds _really_ good right now,” Nick interrupts before Harry can get any further in the list.

“Okay, I’ll—”Harry breaks off with a groan as Nick fondles his dick through his pants. “Oh god.”

Nick gives Harry a dirty grin and wiggles his eyebrows before Harry has the chance to cover his face at Nick’s horrible joke. And then, he’s disappearing under the covers to pull Harry’s pants down and take his dick into his mouth.

“Just so you know,” Harry says, voice straining with each word as he reaches down and tangles his fingers in Nick’s hair. “That was both terrible and soppy, making a joke that references our first not-date. I completely approve.”

Nick merely hums as he swallows around Harry’s dick. It’s very impressive in both length and girth and Nick loves the weight of it on his tongue. He lifts most of the way off, wanking the lower half slowly with his hand, so that he can concentrate on the head for a bit. Harry is very encouraging of Nick’s change in technique, pulling at his hair lightly and breathing more heavily.

“ _God_ , baby,” Harry pants. “You’re so good with your mouth.”

Harry calling him _baby_ revs Nick up a little and he doubles his efforts, fondling Harry’s balls with his free hand as he works his mouth and throat on Harry’s cock.

“ _Baby_ ,” Harry gasps as he starts to tense up with his approaching orgasm. “Nick, I’m—“

Nick doesn’t care, he wants it, to taste Harry on his tongue. He sucks at the head of Harry’s cock, tonging the slit like he’s begging for Harry’s come to spill into his mouth.

And then it does. It’s sweet and bitter all at once and Nick laps it up.

Harry tugs Nick’s hair again when the sensitivity gets to be too much and Nick climbs up to kiss him. Harry’s eager for it, allowing Nick to share the taste of him, revelling in it. Nick can’t believe that he forgot sex could be like this. Or maybe it’s never been quite like this before.

Harry eventually pulls away to shuffle down under the covers and return the favour, and Nick learns early on that Harry’s a big fan of a little hair pulling. Nick is more than willing to cater to Harry’s kinks as Harry hums against his dick with each pull. It’s the most electric feeling, sending shivers up and down Nick’s spine.

He comes much sooner than he’d like but Harry doesn’t seem to mind, scooting in close for a cuddle afterwards.

“That was incredible,” Harry sighs with satisfaction, resting his head on Nick’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “It was.”

 

**-@-**

 

Nick decides that maybe he and Zayn need to get some of the romance back into their relationship.

It surprises him that Zayn seems to have come to the same conclusion because he comes home from work on Friday to Zayn holding a beautiful bouquet of roses and a fancy dinner that Zayn’s put a lot more effort into than the previous one.

After dinner, Nick gives Zayn the sketchpad he’d bought earlier.

“What’s this?” Zayn asks, looking down at the blank pages in his hands thoughtfully.

“You used to draw all the time,” Nick explains, recalling the months after they’d first started dating. “You said it inspired you. I just thought, maybe it would help if you started up again.”

Zayn nods, eyes still on the empty sketch pad.

“Do you not like it?” Nick worries, wanting to reach out but, once again, not sure where they stand.

When Zayn looks at him, there are tears at the corners of his eyes and Nick realises that Zayn is actually touched by the gesture.

They go to bed not long after and Zayn kisses him desperately, like he’s trying to make up for something that they’ve lost. They have sex for the first time in ages, since after their fight about the family they’ll never start. But unlike then, it’s not just a quick and dirty fuck. To Nick, it almost feels like making love.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

Nick is nervous. He’s doing his best not to let it show but he thinks with every joke told just a little too obnoxiously or each too loud laugh, Harry is figuring it out. He shouldn’t be this nervous, Niall isn’t even here yet. They’ve just decided to have lunch before Niall joins them for coffee later.

“It’s alright, baby. He’s just a normal person, like anyone else,” Harry tries to calm him, rubbing a hand soothingly along his thigh. At least, Nick thinks it’s supposed to be soothing but the thigh rubbing combined with Harry calling him baby is now adding to Nick’s list of worries by giving him an ill-timed erection.

He really needs to tell Harry what calling him that does to him. Then again, Harry would probably use that knowledge for evil as Nick has learned that Harry has a bit of an exhibitionism kink as well as the hair pulling.

Nick really needs to get his mind off sex and back on the situation at hand. _Damn it_. No. No thoughts of wanking.

“Nick?” Harry’s voice breaks into his thoughts and he turns to his boyfriend expectantly. Maybe Harry will say something helpful now and pull Nick out of this downward spiral of depravity.

Instead, Harry looks purposefully at his crotch. “Do you want me to help you with that?”

“Harry,” Nick groans mournfully. He’ll just have to not stand up for the rest of their meal, that’s all. “I’m trying to think of ways to get rid of it, and you’re not helping.”

“Oh, I’ll get rid of it,” Harry tells Nick with a smirk before purposely dropping his napkin under the table. “ _Oops_.”

Before he can duck under the table after it, Nick stops him. Harry pouts at him until Nick shows him why he had to. Niall has walked in and is walking towards them with a sunny smile on his face.

“Hazza!” Niall calls well before he’s even on their side of the restaurant.

Harry stands from his seat and the two of them embrace when Niall makes it to their table.

“It’s good to see you again, Niall,” Harry says sincerely, turning to Nick after the two of them sit down. ”This is my boyfriend, Nick. He’s the one I told you about.”

Holy shit, ‘boyfriend’ is almost as bad as ‘baby’. Nick doesn’t understand. He’s never had this problem before with anyone else. Of course, Harry Styles isn’t just anyone else.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Nick,” Niall says with a tone that says he’s playing at sounding like a serious businessman, while offering his hand.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Nick answers in kind, reaching across the table to shake Niall’s hand.

“Wait. Harry, you said this guy I was meeting was just ‘a guy you know who’s interested in radio’, why am I just hearing the boyfriend bit?” Niall asks, hand to his chest like he’s offended. Nick isn’t sure Niall is actually capable of being offended.

“Well, the boyfriend bit is new,” Harry tells him, turning to Nick and grinning hugely as he says it.

“Oh good. So, I already know he’s got good taste,” Niall laughs.

Nick narrows his eyes at Niall because that sounded like a come on to him but that just makes Niall laugh harder.

After he calms down and they order their coffees, he turns to Nick.

“So, Nick, let’s talk about radio.”

So they talk about radio. And somewhere along the way, Nick’s nerves vanish.

After Niall leaves with a promise to call Nick later in the week, Harry insists on going after that napkin he dropped.

 

**-@-**

 

Things start to feel okay again.

Nick still works too much but when he gets home, Zayn is always there.

He works on his novel sometimes but mostly, when Nick is home, he’s a good, attentive boyfriend.

Nick starts to have hope that they can fix everything that’s been broken between them.

He’s cooking them dinner and talking about his workday as Zayn leans against the counter and makes sympathetic faces.

“Babe, I’ll finish my book as soon as I can so that I can help out. I’ll get a job and you can cut back your hours,” Zayn promises, stepping up behind Nick and massaging some of the tension out of his shoulders.

“Aww, darling,” Nick turns and coos at his boyfriend as Zayn moves his hands, wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist. He loves this side of Zayn. “That’s really sweet.”

“You deserve really sweet,” Zayn says leaning in to steal a kiss.

Nick gives him what he wants. He’s just getting into it when Zayn ends the kiss, jerking away abruptly with a shout of “ _Jesus Fucking Christ_!”

“What’s wrong?” Nick asks started by Zayn’s sudden shouting.

“Nothing,” Zayn answers shadily, moving to the window and quickly shutting the blinds. “Sun was in my eyes. That’s all.”

“That’s why you shouted? Because the sun was in your eyes?” Nick asks, brow raised. Because that’s… kind of strange. Why were his eyes open while they were kissing, anyway?

“It was irritating as fuck, babe,” Zayn states huffily. And then he’s moving hurriedly to the other kitchen window and closing those blinds as well.

“You’re acting really weird,” Nick tells him honestly.

“I think dinner’s burning,” is Zayn’s response just as Nick smells the smoke.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nick shouts, removing the food from the heat and turning the stove off. He waves the smoke away with a flannel, coughing a bit.

“Yeah, I’m going to get some air,” Zayn says briskly, walking out and leaving Nick to deal with the aftermath of burning their dinner.

Nick sighs and turns to watch him go. They had been doing so well.

When Zayn opens the door, Nick thinks he sees a blonde standing on the other side but the door is closed too fast to be sure. He has other things to worry about anyway.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

“So, how’s it going with loverboy?” Aimee asks Nick when he shows up at her flat to crash on her couch again after several nights spent at Harry’s. “Is there trouble in paradise already? Is that why you’re back on my couch?”

“No. There’s no trouble in paradise. Paradise is still perfectly… paradise-y,” Nick tells her, laughter in his tone as he steps into her flat and takes off his coat. ”Harry’s got plans with Liam tonight. He offered to let me stay at his flat, but it feels strange being there by myself. Besides, I assumed you might miss me.”

“You know what happens when you assume,” Aimee teases, leading Nick to the kitchen where she pulls two wine glasses from the cupboard and pours them each a glass. It’s their tradition.

Nick accepts his glass and sticks his tongue out at his mate. “Apparently, you learn who your _real_ friends are.”

“Nonsense.” Aimee pulls Nick back to her living room and drags him down to sit next to her on the couch. “You know I missed you.”

Nick pats her head when she lays it on his shoulder. They plan to spend the night in, watching a Cupcake Wars marathon and gossiping about cute boyfriends with insatiable sex drives.

They’re three episodes in when there’s a knock on Aimee’s door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Nick questions, wondering if maybe she invited Louis to join them.

“No. No one.”

She stands and moves to answer the door, looking perplexed the whole way.

“Shit,” Nick hears from the couch and nearly laughs but then he hears the _other_ voice at the door.

“Please, Aimee. Is he here?” Zayn begs sounding absolutely pathetic.

Nick doesn’t make her lie for him. He goes to the door, prepared to see his ex and rub in his face how fantastic he’s doing. What’s he’s not prepared for is how shitty Zayn appears to be doing.

Zayn looks like hell. Even when he’s gone nearly forty-eight hours without sleep, Nick’s never seen Zayn look anything less than glorious.

“Nick,” Zayn gives him a sad smile. “Can we talk?”

Nick could. He could handle it he’s sure. He’s just not certain he should.

“I don’t think so, Zayn.” Nick moves to shut the door but Zayn steps in the way.

“ _Please_ , Nick. I’ve left Perrie. I always wanted to, I just didn’t know how before,” Zayn pleads.

“What is that you want from me, Zayn?” Nick gives in. Facing his ex is turning out to be more emotionally draining than he’d imagined.

“Give me another chance,” Zayn proposes, a hopeful glint in his eye.

“I’m sorry, it’s all too little, too late.” Nick pushes on the door again. Zayn doesn’t push back.

There’s only a small crack left to go until this chapter of Nick’s life is closed for good. That’s when he hears it.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Nick stops. He lets the door swing back open as he stares down at the pitiful creature that Zayn has become. He only has one last thing to say.

“I’m not sure you ever started.”

Nick closes the door and returns to the living room. He sits next to Aimee and gets on with his night.  He drinks his wine, and smiles at the texts he receives from his boyfriend, and feels absolutely no regrets about getting on with his life.

 

**-@-**

 

Nick is trying to work but two of his co-workers are standing right outside his door gossiping.

He fully plans to get up and shut his door, sour looks be damned, but then he actually tunes into their conversation.

Annie from two offices over is regaling Alice from three cubicles back with tales of her cheating ex.

“First, he got jealous anytime I was near anyone even remotely attractive,” Annie says in hushed tones.  “I thought it was cute at first, like he was afraid he was going to lose me. But then, he threw a fit because I was talking to another man at the coffee shop. It was my sister’s husband!”

“You know what they say,” Alice interjects. “The ones who get so possessive are usually the ones that are stepping out on you.”

Nick misses the next bit of their conversation as he recalls how Zayn reacted to finding out that Louis slept over in the their bed.

“And then, he started bringing me flowers for no reason,” Annie’s saying when Nick tunes back in.

“Mhmm,” Alice hums. “Guilty conscience.”

Nick feels a little sick suddenly because the things they are talking about are things that’s been happening with him and Zayn. Is Zayn cheating?? No. Surely not.

Nick can’t shake that sickening feeling though. And when he gets home, he finds a note claiming that Zayn’s gone out again and doesn’t plan to be home until morning.

 

**_~*~ _ ***~* _ **~*~*~* _ **~*~*~*~**_**_**__ **

 

“That’s been our show today,” Niall purrs to his audience. “Let’s give a warm thanks to our special guest co-host today, Nick Grimshaw.”

Everyone in the studio as well as everyone in the control booth gives Nick a round of applause. He’s grinning from ear to ear right now because even if he doesn’t ever get to be in radio again, he’s got this moment to remember always.

“Thank you, thank you,” Nick says into his microphone while giving all the people in the studio a little bow.

Harry winks and gives him a thumbs up from the corner where he’s been sitting the whole show, trying to remain quiet and failing. Nick is kind of stupidly in love with him.

“If you’ve enjoyed having Grimmy here with us today, let us know. Tweet us, email us, call in and tell Clara Amfo during her show coming up next. I’ll be back on me own tomorrow from 6:30 but if you give him enough love, maybe we can convince Grimmy to come back again.”

“I would love that,” Nick tells Niall, and anyone else willing to listen.

“So would I.” Niall grins and cues up a song. “This is John Newman’s “Come and Get It” playing us out. I’ll see you crazy mofos tomorrow.”

The on-air light goes off and Harry is immediately at Nick’s side, hugging him tightly and telling him how amazing he was. When the embrace is over, Harry takes Nick’s hand and waits patiently, walking quietly beside him while he finishes up talking with Niall as they exit the studio so they don’t interfere with Clara’s show.

“You really were very good,” Niall agrees and Nick feels like he must be _glowing_ he’s so happy right now. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re begging you to come back in a few days.”

“Are you serious?” Nick asks, his fragile heart can’t take it if this is a joke.

“As a heart attack,” Niall promises rather aptly.

“That would be amazing. If you ask, I’ll be here.”

Niall laughs. “I know.”

Niall pats both Nick and Harry on the shoulder. “Have a lovely day, fellas.”

Nick turns to Harry, eyes shining with happiness. “You did this.”

“ _You_ did this,” Harry disagrees. “If Niall hadn’t thought you were capable when you met before, he wouldn’t have let you anywhere near his station.”

“But you introduced us,” Nick counters. He just wants to lavish Harry with praise for getting him here, giving him this.

“Ok, I’ll take a little of the credit,” Harry finally agrees. “On one condition.”

“And what would that be, Mr. Styles,” Nick questions, already confident he has a pretty good idea of what Harry will want.

“If you ever become a radio host, you have to let me…” Harry whispers his condition into Nick’s ear.

Nicks eyes widen at Harry’s words. “Harry, I’m not sure—”

“Don’t worry. We won’t do it right away. Wouldn’t want to get you your dream job only to get you fired from it.”

It amazes Nick how innocent Harry can manage to appear when Nick knows what’s really going on behind those lovely green eyes. Harry grins at him like he knows what Nick is thinking.

“You talk like I’ve already got the job,” Nick teases, pulling Harry to a stop so that he can kiss those deviously charming lips.

Harry wraps his arms around Nick’s neck. “I have faith in you.”

“You make me so happy,” Nick tells him, knowing that he’ll give in to all of Harry’s conditions as long as it means keeping Harry in his arms.

Harry returns the sentiment in warm, lingering kisses.

It’s possible he’s stupidly in love with Nick, too.

 

**-@-**

 

Nick wakes up with a wariness in his bones. He knows he’s got some questions that need answering when he gets home from work, he’s just not sure he’s going to like the answers.

Nick tries to go about his day as he normally would, taking a shower, getting dressed, and eating breakfast. But there’s a heaviness that weighs down each action. When Nick wishes he could go back to bed, it’s not so that he doesn’t have to go to the job he hates. It’s because he wants to go back to sleep and forget that he’s questioning every moment of his relationship with Zayn during the past two years. It’s because he wants happy and enduring, like Nick thought for the longest time they were, but now he’s not so sure.

Nick pushes through it. He goes to work and crunches numbers, working diligently so that he doesn’t have to think about what may be waiting at home. But then the workday is over and Nick has no more reasons to procrastinate having the talk he knows he and Zayn need.

When he walks in the door of his flat, he finds Zayn tapping away at his typewriter.

“Hey, babe,” Zayn greets him without looking up.

“Zayn, can I talk to you for a minute?” Nick asks, his stomach twisting in knots.

“Yeah, just give me a minute to finish this paragraph,” Zayn answers distractedly.

“Sure,” Nick huffs, waiting impatiently. Now that he’s here, he just wants to get this over with.

A few minutes later, Zayn finishes what he’s writing and looks up at Nick expectantly.

Ok. He can do this. No beating around the bush, just rip the plaster off. Maybe if they hadn’t hurt each other so much, there wouldn’t be so many plasters to begin with.

“Zayn, are you cheating on me?”

Zayn sits at his computer desk, shocked into silence. The colour drained from his face.

His reaction is scaring Nick. He needs an answer, in actual _words_ would be nice.

“Are you?” Nick repeats.

“No,” Zayn says standing, finally, and moving to reach out to Nick. “No. I—”

Zayn’s words are cut off by the door buzzer going off.

Nick turns without a word and goes to the door, opening it without checking to see who’s there first. He finds a very pretty blonde woman standing there.

“Can I help you?” Nick asks roughly, impatient to get back to his conversation with his boyfriend.

“I just thought you should know,” she tells him, “that your boyfriend has been sleeping with me. He’s knocked me up.”

“What the fuck, Perrie?!?” Zayn exclaims, stepping up next to Nick at the door.

“You can’t keep stringing us both along, Zayn,” Perrie says coldly. “You have to choose.”

Nick’s chest is aching but he’s shaking his head and speaking before he lets it really register. “No. He doesn’t.”

Zayn and Perrie both turn to Nick with questioning gazes.

“In order to have a choice, that means he has to have two people waiting for him to make it,” Nick explains, not letting himself feel the pain as he says what he’s about to say. “I’m done waiting.”

“ _Nick_.” Zayn looks like he’s going to try and change Nick’s mind, but Nick suddenly realises that’s what Zayn’s been doing all along. They’d get to a bad place, a place that Nick would want to explore, to see what was really wrong so that they could fix it. But then, Zayn would do or say something lovely and Nick would change his mind, decide their problems didn’t need to be examined so closely after all. They’ve been on a downward spiral for so long and Nick refuses to keep going in circles.

“Go,” he says.

“Babe—“

“I said get out,” Nick repeats as patiently as he’s capable.

“You’re not even going to—“

“You lied to my face, Zayn. Repeatedly, and for god knows how long,” Nick yells, losing his temper at last. “You—“

Nick suddenly just doesn’t have the energy for this anymore.

“Get out of my flat. I’ll send you your things later or something. Just go. I can’t be near you right now.”

Zayn goes. Slowly, sadly, but he goes.

Nick closes the door behind him and goes to bed early, curling up in his suddenly-too-big bed and letting the ache in his chest roam free.

It takes time, as healing is said to do. Nick leans on his friends, lets them hold him up when he’s not sure he can stand it anymore. Lets them lead him when he’s not sure where he’s going.

Aimee, Louis, and Louis’ new boyfriend Liam keep him from going over the deep end. And it slowly gets better. Little by little, the ache subsides.

Zayn tries to come back once but Louis makes sure he knows better than to try again.

After about three months, Nick’s friends deem him ready to start dating again. Nick isn’t so sure. Isn’t there a rule that it takes half the total time you were together to get over an ex? Nick goes with it, knowing he’ll never live it down if he doesn’t, and if he’s really not ready they won’t keep pushing. They set him up with a friend of Liam’s.

He arrives to the restaurant and is led to romantic table tucked away in a private corner.

Already seated at the table is a vaguely familiar looking young man, younger than Nick by a good six years, at least, but so very pretty.

“Hi,” He says, standing at Nick’s arrival like a proper gentleman. “I’m Harry Styles.”

“Nick Grimshaw.”

They shake hands, Harry’s grip soft but confident. Nick’s is probably a bit damp.

Harry comes around the table and pulls out Nick’s chair for him, further impressing the older man.

“So, Harry, what do you do?” Nick asks to fill the time while they wait for their server.

“Struggling musician,” Harry offers with a timid smile.

“You _do_ struggling musicians?” Nick teases, aiming to encourage Harry out of his shyness. It works.

“It’s a community outreach program,” Harry jokes back. Nick laughs, enjoying the gleam of mischief in Harry’s eyes.

“I play a bit of piano. Where do I sign up?” Nick asks with a flirtatious smirk.

“Just wait,” Harry promises with a wink.

And yeah, Nick is totally ready for this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you wondering what Harry whispered into Nick's ear at the radio station, his condition is that once Nick has a job as host of his own show, he has to let Harry blow him on air. :) Enjoy that mental picture.
> 
> Hope you liked it.


End file.
